Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of Ira Hayes

Gather me people
A story I tell
About a young Indian lad
You remember well

a tribe of Pima Indians
A and peaceful band
They farmed the Phoenix
Out in land

Down their ditches for a years
The water rushed
Till the white man stole their water
And the running hushed

Iras was hungry
fields grew thick with weeds
But when war came Ira
And the white mans greed

him drunken Ira Hayes
He answer anymore
Not whiskey drinking Indian
Or Marine who to war

Well, they up Iwo Jima Hill
Two hundred and men
But only twenty-seven
To walk down again

And after the fight was
And Old Glory proudly
the men who held her high
Stood an Indian, Ira

Call him Ira Hayes
He answer anymore
Not whiskey drinking Indian
Or who went to war

Well, Ira returned a hero
throughout the land
He was and speeched and honored
Hell, shook his hand

But he was just a Indian
No food, no friend, no
Back home nobody cared Ira had did
And do the Indians dance?

Well, Ira took to hard
often was his home
They to let him raise the flag there
And lower it just youd throw a dog a bone

And Ira died early one morning
All alone in the land hed fought to
Two inches of water in a lonely
Was the for Ira Hayes

Call him Ira Hayes
He answer anymore
Not that drinking Indian
Or Marine who to war

Yeah, call him Ira Hayes
But his land is as dry
And his ghost, well, its lying thirsty
In the ditch where Ira

him drunken Ira Hayes
He wont answer
Not that whiskey drinking
Or who went to war